In the 1970s Barry Stevens authored a book, entitled Don't Push the River. I read it 25 years ago, when it has a mind resurgence in popularity during the heydey of the 1990s human potential movement. Quite frankly, I struggled with the book, but the title has persisted as a concept. If things are supposed to happen, they will; and if they aren't, don't waste your energy trying to push something that doesn't want to happen. In the 90s, when everything seemed to happen easily, maybe the concept was just a sign of the times.
My life has been a challenge for much of this century, and at this New Year, I was shocked to realize how many years have passed since initiating the Millennium. Many have been the times that I've grappled with whether I was pushing the river, in everything from physical challenges to work situations.
I grew up in the heartland where perseverance and determination were not only virtues, but often survival tactics for our hard winters and summer storms and tornados. With that said, when I moved to Oregon, I noticed a lot of people who had moved from the Dakotas and Minnesota after a couple of exceptionally challenging weather years. I render no judgment: they had just decided they could no longer persevere. (My own move was inspired by wanderlust and the sense of adventure, offered to a flat-lander by the mountains and wild rivers.)
As far as I can tell, I started the process of putting The Game Called Life on Amazon in November of 2013, just days after a government shutdown had provided me with time to contemplate what was important. Apparently, getting that book to a wider market was part of the answer. Once we returned to work, the long hours started up again. Occasionally, I worked on formatting, cover design, etc., on a holiday or a weekend, but I am not a detail person, and taking on such tedious tasks when exhausted by my day job was off-putting. A year later--November 2014--I had a proof. I sat down one afternoon and hand-marked the edits, entered them into the online text, and then reviewed. The review revealed more typos which I marked again. (Long silence follows here until this week.)
I reported earlier this week that it had only taken me 20 minutes to make the changes that had been waiting for attention for 26 months. Today I jumped in for what I expected would be a few minutes, polishing the final steps in no time. There is an expression that if you want to make God laugh, tell God your plans. I felt God was laughing at me today. I struggled for hours. Shortly after 5 p.m., my head hung between my hands, and I wondered out loud if the Universe was attempting to tell me to give up. I thought the message was so important, and I had committed to carry it through. How could iI be asked to quit before it was finished?
Much to my surprise, when I called for help, I actually got a real person who spoke very good English fairly promptly. "No," she said, "you can't do either of the things you are trying to do to your cover." (Paraphrased.) Well, no wonder I hadn't been able to do them. I heaved a sigh that connoted both exasperation and relief. I could give up.
Within another 10 minutes, my submission was complete and has been submitted for review. Since there is nothing immoral or illegal in it, I am not too concerned. There is another hoop to get through to get it ready for kindle, but I can't start that until the paper version approval has arrived.
Perseverance has paid off. This time. Yet I do believe there are times when I am being sent a message to just "Give it up already." That Midwestern upbringing just won't let me let go. I am not sure how we know. Last week I wrote about how to tell if our guidance was real or not, and I think the perseverance-versus-the-pushing-the-river conundrum may be another form of guidance confusion.
How do we know? These efforts in our life don't come with superscripts that say, "Give it up!" or "Hang in there! Just persevere and this will be rewarded." There may a way to know when we are in the middle of it. If so, recognizing the message when I am consumed by the effort is something I have yet to master. I do know that this evening, I feel light, and my heart feels full. I am not sure, but I am guessing that I wouldn't be feeling that way if I had decided to give it up.
Showing posts with label perseverance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label perseverance. Show all posts
Friday, January 13, 2017
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Beauty and Inspiration
I love dance, so it shouldn't be a surprise that I am a pretty consistent viewer of "Dancing with the Stars." Last night I joined almost everyone in their audience in weeping openly at the most amazing performance.*
The "star" was Amy Purdy. Amy won bronze in snowboard in the Sochi Paralympics. She is a double amputee. You read right. She lost both legs to bacterial meningitis at 19. Amy also lost kidney function to the bacterial meningitis, too, and required a kidney transplant.
And, yes, she did just win a medal in snowboard. (I can't imagine snowboarding with two healthy legs! EEK!) If that isn't enough of a head-scratcher. Think that she is now competing--pretty effectively--in a televised dance competition. And, if I do the math correctly, she is mid-30s...not ancient by any means, but for a snowboard medallist, pretty impressive.
Amy was ably supported, literally and figuratively, by consistent winning dance pro Derek Hough, as they performed a breathtakingly beautiful contemporary dance. There wasn't a dry eye in the ballroom...or probably millions of living rooms across the world. The routine was beautiful and moving, but what an inspiration she was.
For many people, just learning to walk on prosthetic legs as a young adult would be a challenge. Yet she has mastered movement so completely that she is a successful athletic competitor and now competitive dancer.
I have to admit that I sat there and said to myself, "Not one more word about not feeling like exercising because you're tired tonight!" I watched and realized that there is nothing I can't do...there is nothing any of us can't do...if we have the will, discipline, and perseverance.
Last week I was reminded of that by Ernestine "Ernie" Shepherd, a 77-year-old competitive body builder, who didn't begin working out until her mid-50s and didn't begin body building until she was 71!+ Now she gets up at 3 a.m. so that she can train for the marathons that she runs before she goes to her job at the gym teaching fitness classes. For real!
So whatever excuses we may have for not doing what we want to or should do. To take a phrase from Nike, "Just do it!" Have the intention and act on it...consistently. We just need to choose what we care about and pursue it with passion. But it is nice to have inspirations like Amy and Ernie to get us moving.
*https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ibOlQIojQv0
+https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4wXFSczN6Rw
The "star" was Amy Purdy. Amy won bronze in snowboard in the Sochi Paralympics. She is a double amputee. You read right. She lost both legs to bacterial meningitis at 19. Amy also lost kidney function to the bacterial meningitis, too, and required a kidney transplant.
And, yes, she did just win a medal in snowboard. (I can't imagine snowboarding with two healthy legs! EEK!) If that isn't enough of a head-scratcher. Think that she is now competing--pretty effectively--in a televised dance competition. And, if I do the math correctly, she is mid-30s...not ancient by any means, but for a snowboard medallist, pretty impressive.
Amy was ably supported, literally and figuratively, by consistent winning dance pro Derek Hough, as they performed a breathtakingly beautiful contemporary dance. There wasn't a dry eye in the ballroom...or probably millions of living rooms across the world. The routine was beautiful and moving, but what an inspiration she was.
For many people, just learning to walk on prosthetic legs as a young adult would be a challenge. Yet she has mastered movement so completely that she is a successful athletic competitor and now competitive dancer.
I have to admit that I sat there and said to myself, "Not one more word about not feeling like exercising because you're tired tonight!" I watched and realized that there is nothing I can't do...there is nothing any of us can't do...if we have the will, discipline, and perseverance.
Last week I was reminded of that by Ernestine "Ernie" Shepherd, a 77-year-old competitive body builder, who didn't begin working out until her mid-50s and didn't begin body building until she was 71!+ Now she gets up at 3 a.m. so that she can train for the marathons that she runs before she goes to her job at the gym teaching fitness classes. For real!
So whatever excuses we may have for not doing what we want to or should do. To take a phrase from Nike, "Just do it!" Have the intention and act on it...consistently. We just need to choose what we care about and pursue it with passion. But it is nice to have inspirations like Amy and Ernie to get us moving.
*https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ibOlQIojQv0
+https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4wXFSczN6Rw
Sunday, February 9, 2014
Earned Arrogance
I have just listened to commentators discuss a performance by Russian figure skater Yevgeni Plushenko. He gave a flawless performance in his fourth Olympics. At 31, he is an "old man" in this physically demanding sport, and he's had multiple surgeries to allow him to compete after serious injuries. The commentators spoke of his "arrogance" but then, as they listed the extremely difficult figures that he had performed exquisitely, they added that his arrogance had been well-earned. Should I mention that he is competing against 18- and 19-year-olds.
Plushenko is not the only "old guy" in these Olympics. Several events today featured competitors in their third and fourth Olympics, including the grueling distance cross-country skiers and biathletes. A number of times commentators spoke or arrogance and cockiness in these athletes. None of the ones that I heard interviewed seemed unduly boastful. I wonder at what point "earned arrogance" simply reflects the grit and confidence that it takes to compete at a global level for over a decade.
In "Having Heart" (2/3/14) I wrote about having the heart of a champion, but in that post, I was speaking of a teenage champion in her first Olympics. I think it takes something more to endure year after year after year not only the physical toll that competition takes but the sacrifice, commitment and focus which are demanded. Freestyle skier Hannah Kearney, who had hoped to win back-to-back Olympic gold in Sochi, but was disappointment with bronze, seemed to be considering another go four years from now in her post-race interview. She talked about having a "broken heart," which she said she'd really never had because her primary relationship had been with her sport.
Although it is impressive to see the commitment these athletes bring to what they do, it is easy to overlook the enduring commitment that many ordinary people bring to day-to-day life without fanfare. Facing incredible odds because they believe in something, they too sacrifice as they persevere in face of incredible odds. Some work with individuals with mental health or addiction challenges. Others fight to end the use of chemical weapons,. There are international aid or refugee workers, who face almost impossible odds to help those facing even more impossible odds. Still others work tirelessly to end human trafficking. There are millions of people who work tirelessly to teach children all over the globe just because they believe in the value of learning. Just as the long-time athletes, the commitment, focus, and endurance these people bring to what they do allows them to persevere over decades.
Whether it is on the Olympic stage, in the classrooms of our cities, or in a harbor in Syria attempting to collect chemical weapons, our world is a better place because of those who have the grit and confidence to stay focused on what is important. And, if the confidence they display about what they know is right can be described as arrogance, then, like Plushenko, let's say that it is arrogance earned by awesome performance.
Plushenko is not the only "old guy" in these Olympics. Several events today featured competitors in their third and fourth Olympics, including the grueling distance cross-country skiers and biathletes. A number of times commentators spoke or arrogance and cockiness in these athletes. None of the ones that I heard interviewed seemed unduly boastful. I wonder at what point "earned arrogance" simply reflects the grit and confidence that it takes to compete at a global level for over a decade.
In "Having Heart" (2/3/14) I wrote about having the heart of a champion, but in that post, I was speaking of a teenage champion in her first Olympics. I think it takes something more to endure year after year after year not only the physical toll that competition takes but the sacrifice, commitment and focus which are demanded. Freestyle skier Hannah Kearney, who had hoped to win back-to-back Olympic gold in Sochi, but was disappointment with bronze, seemed to be considering another go four years from now in her post-race interview. She talked about having a "broken heart," which she said she'd really never had because her primary relationship had been with her sport.
Although it is impressive to see the commitment these athletes bring to what they do, it is easy to overlook the enduring commitment that many ordinary people bring to day-to-day life without fanfare. Facing incredible odds because they believe in something, they too sacrifice as they persevere in face of incredible odds. Some work with individuals with mental health or addiction challenges. Others fight to end the use of chemical weapons,. There are international aid or refugee workers, who face almost impossible odds to help those facing even more impossible odds. Still others work tirelessly to end human trafficking. There are millions of people who work tirelessly to teach children all over the globe just because they believe in the value of learning. Just as the long-time athletes, the commitment, focus, and endurance these people bring to what they do allows them to persevere over decades.
Whether it is on the Olympic stage, in the classrooms of our cities, or in a harbor in Syria attempting to collect chemical weapons, our world is a better place because of those who have the grit and confidence to stay focused on what is important. And, if the confidence they display about what they know is right can be described as arrogance, then, like Plushenko, let's say that it is arrogance earned by awesome performance.
Sunday, January 19, 2014
Hopefulness
As the sun goes down today, I notice that the days have become visibly longer now that we are a month since the winter solstice. Each year at about this time, I make the same observation, which is inevitably followed by a sense of hopefulness as more light comes into each day. In a few more weeks, I will be able to leave my workplace in the daylight instead of the darkness. A few more weeks after that I will be able to walk in the daylight after I get home. Hope...the hope that will get me through the long days of winter.
I now stand on the precipice of diving into writing a new book. To do so implies hope: why else would I start? If I put in the time, creativity, perseverance, determination, focus, and patience, I have hope that a book, which will touch the hearts of thousands, will be born. While the hope for longer days requires nothing of me except the passage of time, I know the hope that births books is at least as much sweat and work as it is trusting something good will result.
Leading from the Heart demanded over four year of writing, rewriting, taking feedback from friends who read it, rewriting, writing, editing, tearing it apart and putting it together differently...and that was before the real work began. Months, then years, of attempting to find an agent and/or a publisher were followed by more rewriting and editing. Then, one day a miracle happened: the book lay in my hands with my name on the cover.
I walked into a Barnes and Noble near my home in North Carolina, and by the front door stood 100 books, quickly flying out the door. The store called and reported that they'd sold out of the book before a book signing the next day. A Book-of-the-Month Club alternate selection. Letters followed from people who had been touched by the book. Executives wanted me to coach them so they could lead from the heart. Keynote addresses offered the opportunity to reach audiences that may not have found the book otherwise. As recently at 2011, I met a woman in Washington, who recognized my name and related that she and her co-workers had been inspired by my words a decade earlier. My hope, and all the determination that went with it, was well placed.
With Choice Point...not so much. I still feel it is my most important writing, but 16 years after I "finished" it, the manuscript still sits in my computer, now badly dated. I haven't given up hope, but I have to admit that hope for Choice Point has been tarnished by time.
Standing ready to surrender myself one more time to the hope that my words will touch and inspire the hearts of my readers, I wish for the hope that just requires the passing of time, but I know one more time that I am committing months or years of sweat and determination in support of hope. Perseverance and determination in service of hope is required many places in life, from buying the first home to a well-funded retirement, rearing children who become responsible adults, and especially a lasting relationship. The shining light of hope demands the grittiness of thousands of acts of intention along the way before, like a miracle one day, hope lays realized in our hands.
I now stand on the precipice of diving into writing a new book. To do so implies hope: why else would I start? If I put in the time, creativity, perseverance, determination, focus, and patience, I have hope that a book, which will touch the hearts of thousands, will be born. While the hope for longer days requires nothing of me except the passage of time, I know the hope that births books is at least as much sweat and work as it is trusting something good will result.
Leading from the Heart demanded over four year of writing, rewriting, taking feedback from friends who read it, rewriting, writing, editing, tearing it apart and putting it together differently...and that was before the real work began. Months, then years, of attempting to find an agent and/or a publisher were followed by more rewriting and editing. Then, one day a miracle happened: the book lay in my hands with my name on the cover.
I walked into a Barnes and Noble near my home in North Carolina, and by the front door stood 100 books, quickly flying out the door. The store called and reported that they'd sold out of the book before a book signing the next day. A Book-of-the-Month Club alternate selection. Letters followed from people who had been touched by the book. Executives wanted me to coach them so they could lead from the heart. Keynote addresses offered the opportunity to reach audiences that may not have found the book otherwise. As recently at 2011, I met a woman in Washington, who recognized my name and related that she and her co-workers had been inspired by my words a decade earlier. My hope, and all the determination that went with it, was well placed.
With Choice Point...not so much. I still feel it is my most important writing, but 16 years after I "finished" it, the manuscript still sits in my computer, now badly dated. I haven't given up hope, but I have to admit that hope for Choice Point has been tarnished by time.
Standing ready to surrender myself one more time to the hope that my words will touch and inspire the hearts of my readers, I wish for the hope that just requires the passing of time, but I know one more time that I am committing months or years of sweat and determination in support of hope. Perseverance and determination in service of hope is required many places in life, from buying the first home to a well-funded retirement, rearing children who become responsible adults, and especially a lasting relationship. The shining light of hope demands the grittiness of thousands of acts of intention along the way before, like a miracle one day, hope lays realized in our hands.
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